Happy
by May La Nee
Summary: Sadfic/gen. Charles and Erik are looking for mutants to participate in a coordinated effort to capture Shaw when they find an extremely neglected girl. Charles' POV, no pairing. This story is most unhappy (cannot stress this enough) and centers on character death. I'm so, so sorry.


**In canon, Raven made her way to Charles' mansion. What if things had turned out differently for her?**

**I hope writing this out stops the mental images from haunting me whenever I close my eyes.**

Cerebro had given an overwhelming overview of the people in the world and ever so slightly, there was a particular mix of sensations accompanying and indicating every single one of them. Mutants stood out of course, there was quite literally an extra dimension to them. Unfortunately all of these sensations and even the extra dimension defied words entirely. It helped to invoke other sensations in an attempts to be able to speak about them, though this did create confusion. This intentional likening was nothing like synesthesia, a condition where different senses mixed and people could genuinely taste the colour yellow for example. No, this was a manner to digest impressions in preconstructed frames, allowing experiences to be captured and understood — quite literally 'labelled'— as something more practical than remembering the actual feeling.  
Perhaps at some point one ought to create actual words for how aspects of people 'felt'.

Regardless of all that, there had been a tiny blip on the map of Cerebro and initially Charles had skimmed right over it. There seemed to be no other person in their vicinity so initially, he had focused on the mutants who were in easier to reach locations. He wasn't sure why he had gone back to that little dot but he had, right before he had stopped searching all together. There had been absolutely no movement from it and he wondered whether it was a person at all. It could also be some other creature that somehow registered as being similar to a mutant, he had no way of knowing the difference. The signal was weak and reminded him of something sweet, like cotton candy perhaps, but it was difficult to focus his attention on it properly.

As this was his first time using Cerebro, he had no idea what kind of signal was normal and had dismissed it. For all he knew, there was just a bad reception in the area. Later, when Erik and him had used the coordinates he had gathered to map out their route, there was a single one placed in a forested area, miles away from any road.  
Charles instantly knew that this was the weak little cotton candy signal and he didn't like it one bit.

Throughout the first leg of their search they had met a number of mutants, each one of them equally fascinating. The manner in which they had made a life for themselves with or despite their mutation was enlightening and it was unfortunate that only one of them had been willing to join so far. The young man in question, Sean, was a bit wet behind the ears but his mutation was fascinating and as full of potential as Sean himself.

Erik hadn't been quite as impressed.

He hadn't been openly negative, but he had mentioned how unfortunate it was that some of the other people they had encountered would not be joining them and had neglected to mention how great it was that Sean _would_. Most likely Erik just wasn't an optimist, nor someone who generally settled for what he had. Charles couldn't help but think that if life hadn't dealt him such a terrible hand, he would probably be at the top of his field of choice by now, whatever that would be.

Regardless, as their search progressed Erik seemed to grow calmer. Perhaps 'calmer' wasn't the right word… He just seemed more comfortable. Better.  
Initially it seemed as if everything that did not immediately contribute to finding Shaw was an unwelcome distraction to him, as if it were possible for a person to live a life entirely in pursuit of a single goal. Obviously Erik had tried to do just that for years on end, but now he was gradually loosening up. He had even remarked that it was a very different experience to search for his own people rather than to chase the enemy.

It was odd to reconcile the still-forming image Charles had of his friend with that of a weathered predator, and he really rather not linger on the thought.

They were about a week into their search for fellow mutants, spending the nights in different hotels of varying quality of which they had surprisingly similar opinions. Last night had been spent in a motel, one in which Charles could smell the shampoo and whatnot of the previous guest in the pillow as he lay down.

Obviously the weird cotton candy blip mutant was isolated somewhere in the wilderness, he had gathered that much from Cerebro. What was new was that said wilderness was part of Monongahela National Forest and that it would take about a full day of hiking to reach them.  
He hardly even ventured into the acres surrounding his home for more than an hour at a time and if he was honest, he wasn't sure when he had last bothered to go out there at all.

Much to Charles' surprise, Erik had been quite keen to be in nature and to spend the night camping. After hearing him talk about luscious meals and renting presidential suites all to himself, it was yet another aspect of his friend's personality he wasn't sure how to incorporate in the image he was still forming of him.

They had risen at dawn and within the first half hour of their walk, Erik had been able to tell Charles which of the plants they had passed were edible, which trails were fresh, which creatures had left their marks and less surprisingly, he could sense the cardinal directions.

Charles, on the other hand, only just managed to stop himself from mentioning the blister that was already forming. He refused to live up to the assumptions his friend was making about him.

They had decided to pack lightly. Erik was obviously carrying some metal and between them they probably had enough cigarettes to build another person. Also they had bread, canned soup, some bottles of water each, some snacks, a tent, blankets, and a change of clothes. Charles decided they were getting at least three courses for dinner the moment they were out of the forest.

The sun would be setting soon and it was difficult to estimate how close they were to the mutant they were looking for. The impression Charles had gotten through Cerebro had been weak in the sense that he had not been able to distinguish anything in particular about them. Now they were getting closer, she - for she was female - was becoming more defined and he could sense weakness about her. The aspect of her that struck him the most was her hopeless stubbornness, a deviant optimism that reminded him of burnt caramel. He guessed they were perhaps a mile of so away from her by now.

Just as they stopped to light a cigarette and wonder whether to set up camp and approach her in the morning or to find her first, they heard speaking coming from about a hundred feet in front of them. It was impossible to make out what was being said, but there was very clearly a female voice coming from what was probably a clearing straight ahead. Erik looked at Charles as they listened. The speech continued indistinguishably and suddenly there was an attempt at whistling. There was skill nor rhythm to it but it was unmistakable, followed by more speech.

No response was audible, not even an animal fleeing from the sound. There was just the rustling of the wind in the leaves and the girl's little voice.

Erik looked at Charles questioningly and Charles nodded. How could he have been so wrong about the distance? How could her mind be so hard to sense?

When the whistling started again Erik dropped his bag and set course for the sound, approaching calmly but determinately. Charles followed on a distance, dulling his senses enough so that he would not accidentally invade anybody's mind. Whatever this girl was, she was different from anybody he had encountered before and he didn't like it.

"Hello!" she shouted the moment Erik broke through the trees, her voice emphatic, enthused and shrill.  
Erik stopped in his tracks.  
"Hello! Hello!" she shrieked again, continuously, her voice breaking and laced with desperation.

Charles could feel the sickly sweet manic ecstasy radiate from her so he limited his receptiveness even further. That this was how she responded to seeing Erik, who could be quite intimidating by default, approach her during sunset, made him dread the state in which they would find her.

He took a moment to brace himself before following him.

When he did, it was as if a furnace opened in front of him. Outrage, pity, revolt, HATRED, disgust, all radiating off of Erik so intensely that he feared he might be burned. He shut off sensing emotions entirely and then he saw her.

The emaciated girl had her desperate yellow eyes fixed on them as she reached for them with her bony arms. Her naked little body merged with the ground just beneath her navel and she appeared to be buried there. She was so skinny that her joints seemed emphasised, making her resemble half a marionette. Her long red hair and pale blue skin were covered with dirt and though she was clearly not an adult, her age was difficult to determine. She could be anywhere between ten and sixteen years old. There was a circular indentation in the earth around her demarcating the limits of her reach and within it, not a single plant grew. Underneath the layer of dirt and grime there were patches of a green sheen to her, not unlike moss or some fungus beginning its growth.

The smell of human waste was unmistakable and intermingled with the lily scent of illness. While Charles stood frozen to mentally register what he saw, her volley of hello's continued.

Erik managed to move again after just a few seconds. When he reached her she extended her skinny arms up at him as if she was a toddler begging to be lifted.  
"Hello," Erik responded to her cries, before falling to his knees and embracing her, her own hellos now hardly distinguishable through her sobs of happiness.

…and to think he had almost decided not to come this way at all.

Charles made an effort to maintain his composure before coming any closer.

By this point Erik had put his leather jacket over her shoulders and was helping her to water from a bottle, which she drank clumsily and eagerly.  
Though there were streaks in the dirt on her face of where tears had run in the past, Charles noticed there was no new moisture there. The poor thing must be dehydrated.

Erik had started to very carefully scrape the earth by her hip using only his hand, but she stopped drinking for a moment to say "Ouch." It was not an exclamation of pain but a word, and she looked at Erik's hand as she said it.  
He looked into her face, gently stroked the earth where it touched her and asked "Does it hurt?"  
She nodded, then emphatically repeated "ouch."

Erik patted the ground as if to put the dirt back in place, somehow managing to smile at her. His voice strained as he said "We're not leaving her."

Charles didn't trust his voice so he nodded. They both understood she would not be joining them.

* * *

Erik had sat down closely beside her, his arm against her as she seemed desperate for the touch. He had also had the idea to pile their bags behind her so her poor back had some support, to which she had responded almost as ecstatically as before, emphatically sighing "Ah!" as she leaned against their things.

She must not have known comfort in forever.

They had lit a fire on a comfortable distance in front of her and shared the soup with her. The tent was not yet pitched but with Erik's mutation this wouldn't take a minute. Her big eager eyes never left them as they had gone about the preparations and now the sun had set, those eyes seemed to take on the colour of the fire itself. A clean can filled with water sat in the coals, warming for her to clean herself with later if she wanted. She had not appeared surprised that Erik could move metal without touching it and had seemed more interested in the two of them remaining in her sight.

Charles wasn't sure whether he had sat down across from her to remain visible or if it was because he wanted to keep a physical distance.

This girl was clearly no danger to him but her mind felt so different from the minds he had sensed before… it was as if she wasn't fully human and she didn't look fully human either, a thought he wished he could unthink. He wasn't sure why he was recoiling like this, this wasn't how he had expected himself to respond. He pitied her, he wanted better for her, yet he just wanted to be away from here despite her. Her appearance was not her fault and he had yet to actually look in her head so he couldn't imagine those factors to be the reason… Yet somehow he couldn't get himself to cosy up to her the way Erik was doing.

Until he gathered his resolve he sat there, disgusted with himself, smoking just to keep his hands busy and hoped Erik would stop giving him those _looks_.

"What's your name, darling?" Erik asked, stroking her hair as she looked between them and the campfire with wild eagerness.

There was a dullness to her eyes and right before she looked at him again, Charles realised that it showed the same weakness he had sensed in her. It didn't come as a surprise but yet it shook him, to see the inevitable end of her life so explicitly illustrated.

He silently hated himself for wishing they had never come this way.

"Happy!" she croaked, her voice still fragile from her earlier shouting.

Charles felt his heart crumble.

"Your name is Happy?" Erik asked, managing to again smile somehow as he gently stroked the top of her head.  
She nodded eagerly and said it again. "Happy!"

Then she pointed Erik, nearly taking his eye out with a skinny little twig of a finger. "Youh!?"  
"My name is Erik," Erik said.  
"Erik!" she echoed.

He adjusted his position so their heads touched and he pointed Charles.  
"And that is Charles. He is a good friend."  
"Tarles!"

She clapped her bony hands — it sounded like clicking.

Charles forced himself to smile but the expression felt wrong and heavy on his face. How did Erik manage to behave so normally while he himself was so overwhelmed? He didn't want to explore this thought further, not while they were here with her, but it was hard not to. He had hardly said a word to her and the thought of even accidentally reading her mind terrified him.

He could hardly contain his tears when he still did have this distance from her and her sickly sweet desperation was hard to shield from, even when it was tinted with the relief which flared whenever they did anything at all. Even without inside knowledge about her emotional state, the extent of the neglect she had suffered was obvious and astounding. The food they had shared with her had certainly been the first hot meal she had had in a long time, yet she still grabbed and ate every bug within her reach. He couldn't bear to think how long she had been here, all alone, exposed to the elements without anyone to speak to, and the way she had extended her arms to be picked up…

He didn't realise tears were streaming down his face until he heard her ask: "Tarles sad?"  
There was so much sympathy in her skeletal little face that his heart hurt for her again.

He wanted to respond but again did not trust his voice, so he stroked his hand over his mouth and looked away, trying to blink back more tears. If he would speak he would choke up anyway, and the poor sweet thing might spend her final hours or however long she still had being concerned about _him_. He couldn't have that on his conscience.

"Yes, Charles is sad," he heard Erik say. "He is sad because we want to help you… And you're stuck."

She nodded gravely. "Stuck. — Plant!"

Erik's guffaw was not a happy sound. "You're a plant?"

"Yes, my a plant."

"Do you have legs?"

Her response took a moment, clearly she was thinking. Erik indicated his own to be sure she knew what he was talking about.

Then she shook her head. "No legs. My a plant."

Erik, too, was silent for a moment and it was as if his hopelessness spilled out of him like a noxious mist. It was 'sweet', too, but it didn't have the same burn to it that the girl's had. It was hollower, had a hint of saltiness, and it reminded Charles so much of the flavour of his own tears that a lump appeared in his throat.  
Abruptly he stood up, making some vague hand gesture to excuse his absence. He needed some distance, enough to not have to shield so hard against these waves of their emotions. They were so strong and there was so little to distract him that he was sure he would go mad if he were to just sit there and absorb it all.

"Tarles? Hello!" she shouted shrilly the moment he stepped through the trees. Did she really think he would just abandon her? The burnt caramel of her desperation reached him and he walked further back, close enough to hear them but far enough to be able to protect himself. He knew he couldn't escape his own guilt, which hit much harder now their feelings weren't clouding it.

So far, Erik had been the only one to be of any use to her. Fine, he himself had portioned the soup and handed her hers, but compared to the comfort that Erik was providing her he himself might as well not have been there at all.  
Bitterly he realised that he did have a contribution to make. If he were to read her mind, to find out what exactly was the matter with her, they might be able to help her or at the very least, bring her more comfort before she inevitably died.

He couldn't do it though. Not right now, anyway. Perhaps the walk had exhausted him more than he had anticipated, perhaps it was encountering so many mutants in a relatively short time, but the thought of going into her mind was just too much.

It wasn't that he was repulsed by her — where did the thought even come from? Her helplessness, her predicament, her need for salvation did not make him want to run. The desperation of her situation was not what made him wish they had never come this way at all, was not what made him wish that he had ignored the little dot, brushed it off, it was not what made him wonder whether he would have been spared meeting her if only the weather had been a little worse in the past few days…

It couldn't be any of that because he wasn't that kind of person.

He wanted to help. He wanted her to be well, to have never experienced any of whatever this Hell was. Perhaps that was it — perhaps it was that they were too late before he had even sensed her and whatever they could do now, it wouldn't set anything right.

The problem wasn't that he expected it would be devastating for him —

He needed to stop lying to himself.

He had barely kept it together when he lay eyes on her, how could he bear experiencing her suffering from the inside of her mind?  
It didn't have anything to do with being tired or anything of the sort, he knew that, he wouldn't want to do this any more on a good day. Yet he had to. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.

Still, he really, _really_ didn't want to.

Not to mention that since she didn't seem to know a lot of words, there was hardly any distance between her thoughts and her experience. He had read the minds of infants in the past and they seemed to respond to what he sensed in them as if it was happening to them at the moment, rather than as if they were remembering something. It appeared this happened because they had no buffer of language yet to shield them from their thoughts.  
If he were to read this girl's mind and he needed to press any part of her memories at all to get relevant information she might spend her final moments reliving the worst thing that ever happened to her. And that was presuming he _could_ read her mind at all, which was still unclear as it had been so incredibly weak. What if he snuffed it out by trying?

He knew that Erik thought he should do it, though he would have known even without the urging glances. He personally agreed that he should, since her existence as it was at the moment was miserable to say the least. If there was the slightest chance that her situation might be improved, it was worth it.

Even at his own expense.

"Charles will come back," he heard Erik say. "Do you want to get out?"  
His tone was gentle like before, the embodiment of equanimity itself. How many dying people had Erik encountered in his life to allow him to behave so calmly towards her? Was it because he couldn't feel her feelings?

The girl didn't respond.

"Happy?" Erik asked, urgency creeping into his tone, "Darling, are you awake?"

Again there was no response. The brief silence was followed by the sound of zippers and the canvas rustling.

When Charles stepped back into the clearing, the tent was set up over her head. Erik had wrapped a blanket around where she seemed to merge with the sand and was adjusting it when Charles sat down across from her again. Her relaxed expression and the campfire casting shadows on her face made her look dead.

It was a calming sight.

"Her heartbeat is irregular and she passed out so suddenly... I hope she'll make it to dawn." When Erik was done adjusting her blanket he sat down beside her again, so close that his arm touched hers.

Charles could feel Erik's expectant gaze on him as he continued to stare at the poor little girl.

"How are you holding up?"

The question took Charles off guard and when he looked at Erik, he saw that his eyes were narrowed. In the flickering firelight it was hard to tell how much judgement was in them and he wasn't sure if he had detected sarcasm in his tone.  
He felt blood rush to his face, wondering whether his shame was justified. He had an urge to explain himself, yet becoming defencive seemed inappropriate.

Before he made up his mind Erik spoke again: "If she dies before you look into her head, nobody but the people who did this to her will know her story. They will have taken both her life and her legacy, while you were blubbering in the bushes because her suffering was too much for _you_ to handle."

Charles didn't want to argue with this because there was no point. Then again, he did consider a response was called for. It wasn't a defence as much as an explanation. "I'm not _choosing_ to -" he started, but Erik interrupted him.

"You will have another day to deal with this but she may not. Don't waste her time."  
Erik mercifully lowered his gaze to the fire and stabbed it with a stick.  
Both of them quietly looked at it for a while.

"Whoever did this to her… " Erik started again, his tone more composed than before. "The thought that they're out there, in their homes, in their beds, looking forward to another day while she is here like this…" He shook his head, then looked Charles in the eyes again. "Murder is easier than you think, you know."

A little taken aback, Charles looked back at the fire. "Killing is never the answer," he said evenly. He knew he stood by his words but it was hard to feel their truth at the moment.

"Only because there is no question." Erik spoke with more fervour. "No matter how long she has, they have taken her life. Take it from me, even if she could become well enough to live some semblance of a life, there will always be a hole inside of her. Whereas those who did this to her -"

"I don't want to talk about murder." Charles interrupted him flatly.

"You better be preparing to get in there." Erik bit back.

This startled Charles. He knew Erik wouldn't hurt him but he hadn't expected the threatening tone.  
"Or what?" he asked, careful to intone the question so that there was no defiance in it.

"If you don't, I will never forgive you on her behalf."

Charles watched the flames dance, the girl's pathetic figure in the background.  
"Have you considered that perhaps nobody did this to her? That maybe her mutation is something to do with instantly transporting herself, or merging with sand for all I know… and she just got stuck?" He didn't dare make his tone seem hopeful, he didn't want to deceive himself.

"We won't know until you check."

Even though Charles tried to avoid them, he could feel Erik's eyes drill into him.

He took a deep breath and bolstered himself. He flicked the stub of his cigarette into the fire and looked at Erik a final time before closing his eyes and setting two fingers to his temple, feeling bulky and graceless as he entered her wispy spun sugar-like mind.

Foremost were her current sensations.

The physical warmth of the fire in front of her, Erik's warmth and scent by her side combined with the support of her back were still so new and comforting to her that she was aware of them even though she was asleep. Her back had been so sore it felt numb with the relief of being able to lean against something. Erik's proximity was the most profound, the physical and emotional warmth being the source of all hope and goodness she had at the moment. It was as if it was the only thing keeping her from slipping away entirely. Despite it though, there was a constant heavy feeling of malady permeating her consciousness and every part of her body felt heavy. The weight of the jacket didn't help but it brought her comfort.

Even though the blanket covered the part where she 'merged' with the ground she felt so cold there it hurt and the chill was in her bones, nagging at her and though Erik's warmth thankfully took precedence over it, it didn't block it out entirely. Her private parts in the sandy cold felt somewhat numb, sore and itchy.  
Underneath them Charles tried to sense for her legs. There was a hint of something akin to the feeling of when the body reflexively pulls away before pain begins — the anticipation of pain, never quite setting in. There was no shape he could distinguish, no ability to move anything, so he stopped trying to focus on it. Her tongue was thick and dry in her mouth, throbbing with every irregular heartbeat.

Most prominent was the general feeling of weakness and misery, along with a sense of confusion and being out of balance.

Her mind was so weak and fragile that Charles found it impossible to tell whether she was dreaming or just hallucinating. There were hardly any words, no meanings or interpretations of any kind, just experiences of different sensations. Erik approaching, the relief that made her forget her discomfort, the crunching of beetles between her teeth, seeing a doe, sucking dew from her hair, screaming at the rain, seeing a bear, scraping together moss to eat, voices in the distance that disappeared as she called for them, cowering from lightning, and laced throughout it all was the desperation, stringing together her wasted little life as her thoughts spiralled into the beginning of her misery.

Charles wasn't sure if it was the heaviness of his presence or if her thoughts would have gone there without him as well, but he let it happen.

Memories could change and the act of remembering always altered them, so Charles could never be certain whether what he experienced in another person's mind was factual. Regardless, what he sensed told him enough.  
She had been yanked from darkness by her hair and had been relieved to see anything at all. Hunger, thirst, cramp, all seemed irrelevant compared to seeing the sky and mommy again. The girl hoped for a hug — a rare treat — and for food. When the man, most likely her father, came into view, her terror and tears made it impossible to distinguish what exactly was happening. Her legs were forcibly restrained, she couldn't kick anymore and frustratingly, her gaze was forced upwards by the man's grasp. Then she was dropped into a hole where the sudden pain in her ankles knocked her out. There was an aching in her hips as well and for the briefest moment, Charles saw a flash of a nursery viewed from inside a cage on the floor.

Her hips and neck had always hurt there.

When she came to, the man just finished tying her wrists together while the woman placed some fruit and bread within her reach. Charles realised bitterly that 'mommy' looked inconvenienced at most.

As the pair hurried away the girl screamed in pain, screamed for them to return, screamed for mommy, screamed until her voice was a whistling noise that tasted of blood.

Any memory before her current situation was the faint imagery of being in the cage, never able to sit up or stretch out so Charles tried to ever so carefully steer her mind to better and hopefully _helpful_ things.

The rope had hardly been an obstacle for her teeth and there had been a number of occasions on which she had tried to free herself. The first time she had managed to dig herself out all the way down to her knees, but her hips had hurt so badly from carrying her weight and her inner thighs were so sore from her own filth that the safest thing to do was put the sand back for support. When the pain eventually faded and she tried again, the skin of her legs felt so tender she thought it would tear if she moved. The final time she had tried, the skin of her leg had felt wrong to the touch in a different sense.  
Charles recognised that though her finger felt her leg, her leg did not feel her finger. She hadn't realised this — the sensation had reminded her of the roots of some plants she had dug up before and as far as she knew, she had become one.

Initially she had worn a dress of some kind, but it had torn and become so uncomfortable after the first rain that she had thrown it away — unfortunately out of reach.

She knew her name wasn't Happy but she didn't know another. The emotion had filled her so thoroughly when she saw the two of them approach that it was the only answer she could have given.  
Charles knew 'relief' or 'ecstasy' would have been more apt, but she didn't know those words.

He had seen enough. Slowly and carefully he backed out of her mind, taking care to remind her of how great it felt that Erik was beside her.

When Charles opened his own eyes again it was a relief to no longer feel 'her'. He hadn't realised the sensation of illness had permeated the experience so much that it seemed to be his own and his body felt so strong, big and healthy that he needed a few seconds to recognise it. He could hardly see for the tears in his eyes and as he wiped them away, he met Erik's expectant gaze.

"Her legs are restrained and in bad shape… and yes. Her p— _people_ did this to her."

Charles wasn't sure why he felt the need to shield Erik from the idea that her parents had done this, since he wasn't sure what difference it made. It just seemed the right thing to do. It was however also futile, as Erik immediately asked: "Her parents?"

Charles nodded.

The sensation of burnt caramel was now coming from Erik as well so intensely that it was as if a dark smoke was coming from him and Charles was surprised that his sight remained unobscured. He shut off his ability to sense emotions again, though it took him significantly more effort than it had before.

Erik seemed to expect something more from him but Charles wasn't sure what. The girl's sensations and memories were still on his mind and her optimistic behaviour seemed all the more impressive now he knew what she had been through.

After checking her vital signs, Erik surprised him by asking: "Would it be a mercy if she didn't wake up?"

The question took Charles so off guard that he just stared at him for a moment. Realising it was meant earnestly did nothing to help him form an answer and he let his gaze drift to the fire again.

"I considered scooping her up sand and all, taking a wide area, it should be no problem; the metal can be thin as a hair and if needed, I could transport her in that like the plant she says she is… But she fainted when all you did was disappear from sight. I wouldn't want her to die of the shock of a different view."

Though the elaboration did nothing to help Charles answer, it did reignite his feelings of guilt.

It was quiet for a few moments.

"I suggest cremation. Maybe on a raft on the water, she has been buried for long enough." Erik's tone was far too similar to the one he had used to determine in which hotel they should spend the night.

"She's not dead yet." Charles surprised himself with how grimly the words had escaped his mouth.

Seeing Erik look back at him with a pained expression surprised him even more.

Erik took a breath, combing his shaking hand through his hair. "I can't just _sit here_ while she is — … I need to plan, to think ahead, to _do something_."  
There was a hollowness in his voice and Charles realised Erik was on the edge of coming undone, something he was nowhere near equipped to handle at the moment.

Erik looked at him pleadingly. "I can't afford to lose momentum."

Charles looked back at him helplessly. "Erik, you mean the world to her. You approaching has been the best thing that has happened to her and just your arm touching her? It's her anchor, probably the only thing keeping her from slipping away. This is the most comfortable she's been in —... That she's been."  
He swallowed before he could continue. "By sitting there against her, you are doing her a world of good."

Erik looked at him for a sharp few seconds and something glittered in his eyes. Then he wrapped his arm around her skinny little shoulders and stared at the fire so intently that Charles expected it to flare up.

An unknown amount of time later when Erik checked her heartbeat and her breathing again, it was as if Charles snapped out of a trance. The hopelessness hanging over them was oppressive and he needed a distraction. Being miserable in solidarity wasn't going to help her.  
In search of some relief he asked: "What do you intend to do when this is over?"

Erik gave him a suspicious look. "We continue as planned. Why, are you considering to break off the search?"

"No, that's not —," Charles interrupted himself: "I mean after we capture Shaw."

Erik's hand hadn't broken contact with her as he checked her and he adjusted his position next to her again, arm draped over her shoulders once more. Her little head lolled over to him and when he made sure she could breathe clearly and her neck wasn't bent awkwardly, he looked Charles in the eyes again. "I expect I'll be visiting the people who put her here."

This was not where Charles had wanted the conversation to go, but he could hardly brush it aside. "How do you expect to find them? I know what you're planning, I may choose not to tell you anything about them."

"I'll have the time… And I've found people with less." Erik sighed and gazed off into the darkness for a few seconds before he continued. "I can't play house while the likes of her 'parents'" — he spat the word — "Like Shaw, are out there ruining lives. It's unacceptable." His tone hardened and his eyes widened as he spoke.

Charles could see the sense in what he was saying, but he couldn't reconcile it with his own attitude. Quite apart from the murder, there was no need to put oneself in a position of discomfort to care for others, not if one didn't need to. He respected Erik's dedication and determination but there had to be a way for him to go about things that didn't involve wearing himself down in the process. Yet Charles wasn't sure how to broach it: if he phrased the sentiment the wrong way, he might confirm Erik's impression that he was just some mollycoddled know-it-all. He would be dismissed out of hand and Erik might be doomed to roam the earth in search of The Wrong People until the day he inevitably died thinking he hadn't done enough.  
"That's a Sisyphean task… What about _your_ life? Don't you want anything for yourself?"

"Of course I do! But how could I?" Erik exclaimed with tired exasperation. "Knowing that there are people who would do this to a _child_ while I'm squandering time and energy —… " He sighed angrily and stroked a hand over his face — he was getting riled up and Charles didn't think it was solely because of the injustice.  
Erik continued, gesticulating with his free hand as the other remained firmly on the girl's shoulder. "I take small things as they come. Incidentally. Such as: when I need to spend the night, I might as well get a nice hotel. But I am _not_ some glutton."

Charles recoiled a little at the fervour with which Erik was defending himself. Or… convincing himself? If the poor little girl wasn't here, if he didn't have to work so hard to keep her and Erik's emotions out of his mind, he might have had the fortitude to challenge this… What was it? Guilt about indulging himself every now and then? It seemed misplaced to him regardless of what it was and he braced himself when he realised it wasn't over yet.

"I died in that camp, Charles. The boy I used to be died in that camp and Shaw created a monster from what was left." Erik seemed to mercifully be losing steam now. "I haven't been a person since then… so anything I can do to improve the lives of those who still have a chance is a blessing."  
He looked tenderly at the girl under his arm.

Charles remembered the black heavy acid of murderous intent and the bile of fury he had sensed when he first noticed Erik using his powers and he understood. He didn't agree, but he understood.

And he currently didn't have the stamina to argue with the life of misguided masochistic altruism to which his friend was condemning himself.

The next hour or so was spent in silence.

Their cigarettes ran out far quicker than anticipated and Charles both lamented and lauded that they hadn't brought alcohol.

In lieu of something useful to do other than to keep an arm around the girl, Erik had been using his power to fidget with a penny. He had lifted it in the air and the thing had lost its form, tiny liquid-looking strands of metal melting into the shape of a flower, then into a little humanoid figure, and currently was on its third incarnation as a tiny house. Charles didn't see what was wrong with it the first two times but hadn't minded Erik continuously restarting — it was hypnotising to watch the little blob of metal in constant flux, shaping and reshaping in the firelight.

Suddenly a brief guttural sound came from the girl and the little metal house fell into the fire, instantly forgotten.

"Happy?" Erik asked, "Are you awake?"

Though she seemed to have trouble focusing and keeping her head steady, her face lit up when she saw him. "Yes!" she said, her voice weaker than before but no less enthusiastic.

Charles wondered whether she had even understood the question.

She looked over at the water. "Dink?"  
Erik gave her the bottle immediately.

When she was done with it, he asked her "Do you want to come out?"  
Again he gently scraping the dirt at the edge of the blanket to show her what he meant.

"Is ouch, …" she intoned her answer as if it was an argument under consideration.

Erik shot Charles a brief helpless glance before looking back at her. "It may be ouch... But then you're out."

She considered this, then made a wide arm gesture as she spoke " — ouch!"  
"Big ouch? It hurts a lot?" Erik guessed, again looking at Charles.

Charles nodded.

Suddenly he realised what Erik was aiming for.  
"I can try to take the pain away… It's just that she's so delicate that I may accidentally … " He didn't want to finish the sentence.

Erik, never turning away from the girl, tapped his own temple and Charles obeyed with resignation. He couldn't muster words so he opened communication with the general feeling of a question.

"_We clean her up, feed her some snacks, give her some dignity and then slowly dig her out at her pace, keeping her as calm as possible. If you take her pain and she still slips away during, at least she'll go comfortably and with hope._" Erik thought at him in the mental equivalent of rolling up his sleeves.

Charles presented Erik with how it had been for her the final time she had tried to free herself — the numb skin of her upper leg and how it hadn't felt her fingers. For good measure he added her conviction that she was a plant. It was cathartic to share though he felt petty as he did it.

In response Erik's mind became like a furnace again, this time mixed with acid and bile and everything bad a person could feel. The barrage was impossible to shield from, no matter how superficially Charles had gone in.  
"_That settles it_," Erik snapped at him dismissively.

He was glad to get out.

The exchange had only taken a few seconds and Erik touched the girl's hair tenderly. "We'll make it nice for you. Yes? We'll make it good. No more ouch."

Her eyes had been big the entire time but she opened them so widely now that Charles feared they may roll from their sockets.  
"Yes! Yes!" She shouted, continuing to repeat the word the way she had with her greeting earlier, wildly grabbing the material of Erik's shirt in a bumbling display of happiness.  
He stroked her hair and embraced her.

* * *

The water in the can was pleasantly warm and with Erik's spare shirt, they gently cleaned the layers of filth off of her body. To Charles' dismay the blotchy darker blue and purple on her waist did not come off and turned out to be discolouration of her skin. Combined with what he had felt in her earlier, he had no doubt that she was suffering from sepsis.

She tittered as she helped them clean her up.

When she was cleaner than she had been in God knows how long, they helped her into Charles' spare shirt which she admired, raising her arms to look at the white sleeves in the firelight.

Then she cried in happiness when she ate a cookie.

Though Charles' eyes were constantly wet, he didn't feel sadness anymore. It was as if he had gone out at the other end and though the sensation was similar to numbness, he supposed that was because he didn't have a wide enough range of consciousness to process all of it.

Was this how Erik felt all the time? It would certainly explain how he could radiate such intense emotions without displaying any.

"We do this, yes?" Erik had clearly adjusted his vocabulary to what he expected she could understand, and pointed the little demonstration he had prepared for her.  
He had pushed a little metal stick figure in the ground to represent her, then with his skill he pressed a thin sheet of metal in the earth surrounding it. He made it form a cup beneath the surface and then lifted it, so the stick figure much resembled a potted plant now standing beside the hole it had come from. The 'pot' then lost its shape so the dirt surrounding the figure's legs fell away easily.  
Erik looked at Happy expectantly.

She giggled and clapped her hands, an occasional "Yes!" escaping her.

"I reckon I'll repurpose the tent as a support unit for her… You can just focus on the pain management," Erik said, giving Charles only a brief glance before looking at the girl again.

Charles couldn't remember feeling this drained before in his life and he doubted whether he would be able to shield her from her discomfort… but it wasn't as if they could put this off until after he had had a nap. To let her spend another night like this would be to torture her and like Erik had said: if she died in the process, she would have at least gone full of hope.  
"You should just hold her if you can…" He answered softly. "It won't be for long anyway."

Erik nodded in response.

Charles took a deep breath and had a final sip of water before trying to get into the right state of mind. "I'll be with her… So… My eyes are closed. Ready?"

Erik nodded again. "Yes. Please."

Charles closed his eyes and gently made his way into her wispy little mind again, being struck once more about how small and careful he had to be not to break anything.  
The overbearing sense of malady, weakness and heaviness permeated everything but she felt like she was shining with how clean she was, with how pretty the shirt was on her and with the hope that she would be able to leave. She had understood Erik's demonstration perfectly and much to Charles' dismay, she appeared to be under the impression that she would be walking out on two bouncy plant roots as if they were legs.  
Her thoughts felt feverish, confused and vague even to her so rather than waste effort on trying to adjust her expectations, he focused on his task. With all the dexterity he could muster he sought out her feelings of discomfort, held them for her and shielded her from them.

It appeared Erik and himself had timed this perfectly because just as the bad feelings were decreasing, Erik wrapped his arms around her. Thanks to their combined efforts it was as if she nearly melted away in bliss.

Erik held her firmer than before, supporting her as their backpacks fell away from behind her and she was lifted up, higher than she had ever been.

Charles had expected her to clap again, to yell a word repeatedly, to laugh or to do something else enthusiastic like she had before.  
He was wholly unprepared for her to just silently gasp.

He tried not to participate, not to be carried away by her impressions — in his current state, it was difficult enough to tune down her bad feelings without shutting her down in the process.

Erik stopped embracing her but kept his hands underneath her armpits for support, then kissed her on the cheek and put her hair behind her ear.  
"Out," she stated full of wonder, as something warm and soft was gently tied around her waist.  
"Yes, you're out," Erik said, his voice somewhat choked up. "Do you have ouch?"  
"No..." her voice was small and hesitant.

"Good, good. I'll lay you down. All right Happy? On your back?"  
Charles had never heard Erik speak so tenderly and as he wordlessly clarified the meaning of the words to her, she nodded. Then he turned her focus on her relief.

For the first time in forever, her head and back comfortably touched the ground. It was fantastic to be able to have her weight be fully supported.  
Her lower back still bent a little awkwardly because of the metal and sand surrounding her, but it was a sensation unlike any she had had before. She enjoyed its difference, enjoyed being able to see the stars without having to twist her neck.

The stench of accumulated rotting filth that was released as she was freed was overwhelming, but Charles fought to help her focus on the new comfort and view.

Their plan to keep her hopeful had worked.

She was hopeful alright, she hoped she was going to be taken away from here by Erik and Charles and they were going to take care of her. She hoped they would give her a room with a bed and it would be hers to sleep in, she hoped she would have lots of soup and bread and cookies and she hoped they would give her hugs, keep her clean and she would have clothes and she would learn to speak like them, learn to walk like them, she even thought she could learn how to move metal like Erik.

Charles tried not to think of how she didn't know anything else to hope for.

To start things off the right way, she pointed up at the sky and asked "What — ?"  
Her voice was a hoarse whisper and her hand flopped down again almost immediately.

"Those are the stars, darling," Erik said, getting choked up.

She heard his voice on the edge of her consciousness as she slipped into sleep once more.  
For a moment Charles thought he may have pushed her there by being in her head, but then realised that the feelings of malady and weakness had increased while he was suppressing them from her. He tried to cap them so she would be shielded from them even without his conscious attention, but he couldn't find the focus to do so. She was more fragile than before and he wanted her to have a fighting chance, however small.

Carefully he backed out of her mind.

* * *

Happy was rolled into their blankets, thin as a stick and in the recovery position facing the fire. Erik sat close beside her, one hand petting her head.

Every now and then a surge of static electricity went through the clearing, making the small hairs on Charles' arms stand on end. It had taken two instances of this before he had realised that it was caused by Erik trying to restrain himself. Each time only took a few seconds, and was usually followed by Erik shaking his head so slightly that it was as if he didn't know he was doing it.

Earlier, they had removed the dirt from her lower body. It had been caked on and as they cleaned her up, the extent of her decay had become painfully clear.

Her legs were just bones covered in leather, their colour hardly resembling that of her upper body. Over time and by being constantly exposed to her waste, they had taken on a dull shade similar to that of the dirt she had been buried in. Her hips were wider than they ought to be and did not seem to be shaped properly — undoubtedly a result of the small cage in which she had spent her infancy.

Her ankles were broken, tied to the ends of a thick branch which forced her legs apart. They, too, had turned to leather, immortalising the painful angles in which they had been forced. One of her feet had turned black, the other was hardly a foot at all. The heel was black and the rest of it was exposed bone, the toes falling away when they had gotten the sand off of her.

When Erik had freed her ankles and bent her knees to place her in her current position, they had squeaked in exactly the way his jacket sometimes did.

Some birds began to sing and though the sun wasn't visible through the trees, dawn would be upon them shortly.

Charles wasn't sure how long he had sat there, staring at the fire without seeing it. He wasn't sure whether he had slept, and with his reserves depleted he couldn't shield himself from their emotions anymore. He also wasn't sure whether Erik wasn't experiencing any or whether he couldn't distinguish them from his own, but it didn't really matter.  
Sensing her hope while knowing her condition was what really got to him.

Perhaps he was subconsciously shielding himself from her _just_ a little… perhaps she was becoming weaker.

"There's got to be more we can do for her." Erik said so suddenly that Charles was startled into focus.

Charles sighed. "Her mind is weak… I'm not sure I can do anything in there without… You know."

Erik looked at him wearily for a moment. "Well: try. She may die in the attempt, but if these are her last minutes she shouldn't sleep through them."

* * *

"Hello, sweetheart." Erik said when she opened her eyes, making sure the blankets were comfortably wrapped around her.

She blinked drowsily, her head lolling to the side in an attempt to look up at him.

"I'm getting you out."

She was teetering on the brink of consciousness but clung to it with her burnt caramel desperation, her happiness and relief reignited once more when she realised she hadn't dreamt being taken out of the hole.  
When Erik was sure the blankets were secured, he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders properly. She tried to help him, but was too weak to raise her arms or head off the ground.  
When he was sure she was comfortably swaddled, he picked her up bridal style and raised himself off the ground.

Charles remained in her mind, keeping her awake while trying his very best not to snap any of her wispy mental strands.

Slowly Erik rose higher, higher than the trees so they were beneath them like another field of grass and higher still, granting her a view of the world far wider than she could have imagined. The stars and moon were closer than they ever had been, and in the distance a soft orange glow was visible at the horizon.

She'd never seen a horizon before. Her mouth fell open and her little heart swelled with happiness at the _size_ of everything. A little gasp escaped her.  
Erik held her closer to his chest.

"That's the sun coming up," Erik said, adjusting her position so she could see it better and slowly approaching it, all the while gradually rising higher.

"Sunkomengup," she managed breathlessly.

Erik smiled. "The sun, yes."

"Sun." She didn't move her mouth as she said it.

"Yes, very good. You're a smart girl." Some tears escaped him but neither of them paid any attention to that.  
The chill in the air was crisp and a bit too cold for comfort, but she didn't mind. She had never been held like this and it she felt safe. So full of hope.

Her head lolled to the side in an attempt to look at where they had come from, so Erik adjusted her position again, allowing her to see the little clearing.

"Out." she said breathlessly.

"Yes, you're out. You're out forever." He kissed her on the top of her head.

She didn't have the energy to express her happiness.

Silently they floated there for a while, Erik adjusting her position to the direction in which her head seemed to loll, careful to hold her tight. She faded in and out of consciousness continuously and the experience felt like a dream to her.

"If only we'd come sooner… You could have been happy for much, much longer." Erik said softly, a quiet rage burning in his tone.

"You Erik, … Tarles," she mumbled. She hadn't understood what his words meant but she knew they had something to do with the three of them.

"Yes." Erik kissed her on the top of her head again and his lips remained there, pressed against her.

She looked up at Erik to make eye contact with him then, a huge exertion of strength.

Charles could see the man was trying his damnedest to maintain his composure.

"No ouch," she said, her gratitude and relief brimming the words. This was her 'thank you', another two words she had never been taught. If only he would have had the mental strength he would have loaned her his vocabulary, allowed her to express herself without limitations… Though he knew that her mind would have been too weak for that even when they had just found her. The wispy glassy tendrils of which it consisted were shrinking and wilting away rapidly. Even if he would have still had the strength to let her, she would not have the strength to use it.

Suddenly he realised that she knew that she was dying.

Charles had never been in a dying mind before. It hurt. She wasn't in pain but he was, feeling like his very being was shredded and contorted as the little bit of cohesion she had left was shattering, her eyes still fixed on Erik who again managed to smile at her.

Charles left her mind in agony, hoping with all his might she would have a few more seconds without his presence.

The sun was up when Erik returned, still holding her as if she would notice. Together they created a little raft for her, which hardly took any time thanks to Erik's power.  
He did not let go of her until they reached the waterside together, where he lay her down on the wood. She was so flat as she lay there, in Charles' shirt and with the blankets wrapped around her lower body…

Erik tucked the fallen little bones of her toes in the bottom of the blanket before folding it back into a neat little package.

Charles felt as if something had to be said, something to honour her, to make it better… but he couldn't find the words.


End file.
